


His Burden to Bear

by pleasesayitsnotso



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caring, Difficult Decisions, F/M, Fear, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Guilt, Hurt, Injury Recovery, Love, Love Triangles, Pain, Protectiveness, Shame, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 11:32:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4220097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasesayitsnotso/pseuds/pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Shot: Set after episode 6 'Condemned' as Claire cleans up a bruised and injured Matt, she relays some home truths to him, along with the recollection of a certain friend of his. Matt yet again is met by the ongoing conflict of whether he can keep those he loves safe, and can he really keep them and his life as Daredevil separate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Burden to Bear

_“When you are hell bent on protecting someone, don’t let your emotions cloud your mind otherwise you will lose them and yourself.”_

-          _Suzanne Kramb_

* * *

 

   Claire’s svelte figure was effortlessly dressed in one of Matt’s shirts, the light material gliding off of her in a manner that inflamed an ardour deep within Matt’s gut. It’s only when he shifts ever so slightly that the feeling is dispelled by the dominant throb of pain that twinges through his limbs, extending out from every wound he has sustained. He hears her approach before she perches herself beside him and bringing with her the light fruity essence that is just so Claire, a scent that has woven its way into his home, his clothes and his sheets.

   She sighs heavily as her hands work deftly at removing anti-septic wipes from their wrappers, before applying them to his wounds in a way that is still gentle and caring however her lack of patience with her strokes and wipes indicates that despite her concern, she won’t mind if it stings a little. She’s pissed off. Extremely so, and it’s not the first time especially in the current state he is in. He is fond of her, very much so, and initially sharing his identity with her was something he had found incredibly hard to contemplate and allow, however it had become somewhat of a necessity and a happening that could not have been prevented. Despite the nature of this revelation he had tried not to concern himself with the possible consequences of what had occurred, but recently its damaging effects had started to become quite clear, those of which he had not even thought of. Simply put she didn’t understand, she thought she did and she was so close to doing so that sometimes Matt had thought that perhaps she understood the true meaning of his role as Daredevil, but realisation had shown him she was way off. This had in turn caused points of friction and tension and despite their relationship just beginning it seemed it was on the precarious brink of ending, before it really had become... anything.  

   A sharp pain shot along his abdomen, coercing a low and languid groan to emanate from his lips, as Claire continued to busy herself with tending to his cuts. Matt could feel the tension emanate from her, could feel the way the muscles throughout her body contracted tightly in concordance with the agitation she felt. The sound of her heart beat thumping hard within her chest was almost deafening, pounding violently in another show of the apprehension and anxiety she held for him. Amongst his tortured breathes, labouring against the pain that permeated his body viciously, he hushed,

“You’re pissed at me.” His voice despite its low tone managed to sound loud and severe within the stark silence that inhibited his apartment frequently. She paused for a moment, her head shaking in disbelief at his statement; before she sat back ceasing her current tending of his wounds. Her tone held the same strong defiance and conviction that he had immediately admired of her,

“Of course I am Matt... look at the state of you.” Finishing her stern exclamation she set down the bloodied wipe she had held, before procuring a packaged dressing from her kit. He tilted his face towards her before replying in the light hearted manner that attempted to convince her of his well being,

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen or dealt with before.” Matt heard the rustle and harsh rip as she removed the dressing from its plastic wrapping, before placing it on one of the many minor wounds that adorned his abdomen. Sitting back up, she continued to search through her kit for the equipment she would require for the next injury he had acquired, as she did so she divulged something he did not expect,

“That’s not the point... There are people that care for you Matt, and they have no idea what you do and you have no idea how you hurt them by keeping that from them.” Her words struck a point within his soul, the only source of light within a soul blackened and darkened by the devil within, the part where Foggy and Karen remained. It hurt. The two people he cared for the most in this world, and the two people who actually cared for him, for the simple blind lawyer Matthew Murdock. Perhaps Claire wasn’t as far off as he thought; perhaps her differing perspective had enabled her to see a **whole other side of what he was doing, of who he was**. Suddenly his mind was struck with the bewildering number of questions that bombarded him, almost all of them culminating in the important query of how she had surmised this thought. What had triggered her to create this intricate and deep remark?

“Claire what happened?” He could detect the minute and swift movements of her hands as she begun threading a needle, in preparation for the rather dramatic looking but relatively harmless cut he had sustained just above his brow. He heard a heavy sigh emit from her lips, the wisps of her breathe brushing across his face, but she persisted to move towards him her hands ready to sew up the injury he had sustained. She was avoiding his question, avidly. Gently grabbing hold of her wrists, he prevented her from moving any further towards his face, he needed to know... now. His voice was stern but held the tender edges of concern and courtesy, communicating the importance of her reply without being abrupt or harsh,

“Please Claire tell me what you saw.” Her wrists stilled beneath his hands in a moment of contemplation, before he felt her lean back, removing herself from his proximity as she exhaled in exasperation,

“Fine...” Claire hadn’t known what to make of what she had seen, how she should feel about it... what she shouldn’t feel about it. She didn’t really want to bring it up with Matt, for one she didn’t really know how to, but here she was lead into a conversation she didn’t want to have. Placing the needle back into the remnants of its sterile packaging, she clasped her gloved hands together, her elbows resting on her knees,

“... At the hospital, amongst the chaos I saw a woman...” Claire could picture her now, ridiculously tall and slim, her perfect figure adorned by a fitted dark red dress that enhanced her slender frame. Her hair cascaded down over her shoulders in glistening sheets of liquid sunshine, which made her pale porcelain skin radiate, which was remarkable considering the fake insipid glare from the cheap lighting. But the one thing that Claire couldn’t forget was the fear and worry that pooled in that woman’s bright azure eyes, wide and panicked they flickered hurriedly through the vast number of people, obviously trying to find someone,

“... she looked worried, really worried. She was clearly looking for someone who may have been admitted to us...” She watched as the woman hurriedly pulled her phone out of her handbag, fingers moving precisely as she called someone. Within the confines of the space she had moved to within the hectic waiting room, the woman managed to pace and shuffle, her fingers combing through her hair nervously as she waited for the person on the other end to pick up. It was then that the woman really caught Claire’s attention, because what she started to say rang alarm bells, loud and true,

“... she then rang someone, but clearly the other person didn’t pick up so she left a message. A message that I bet you still haven’t listened to yet.” Matt’s brow screwed into an expression of confusion, however he immediately regretted this as the cut he had sustained sent a sharp exact pulse of pain across his forehead. Wincing, within a groan, he managed to breathe out a bemused response,

“What?” Claire remembered how the apprehension in the woman’s voice induced her words to tremble ever so slightly, despite the calm and at ease front she was trying to portray to the person she was leaving the message to. Matt’s clueless nature towards Claire’s statement, made her inners curdle and clench in annoyance... god he was pissing her off. Her voice now held a stiffness and audacity that indicated she was most certainly annoyed, bordering on livid at this point,

“Afterwards she grabbed hold of the attention of one of my colleagues, asking her whether a dark haired, blind man by the name of Matthew Murdock had been admitted.” Claire noticed how the confused tension Matt had held in his features suddenly released, the reality of her observation setting in and allowing a boyish look of shame to overcome him. It was then quietly he muttered,

“Shit.” It was at this he heard an indignant huff of irritation emit from Claire; however he could also sense a wry curling of her lips, an expression that showed her disbelief at his complete an utter idiocy. Her voice brought him back from the whirl wind of thoughts, concerns and inner turmoil he was now drowning himself in,

“Matt, whoever she was she cares for you... a lot. Now I know only part of what the hell you get up to, but from your response and hers, I can guess that she knows nothing. You may think that’s a good thing, but from my seat it didn’t look that way to me.” Matt’s eyes closed momentarily, as his hand moved up into his hair, combing through his thick and dirtied locks in a show of inner conflict, before he replied concisely,

“She can’t know.” Claire’s words bellowed louder than before, echoing tauntingly among the bare and empty walls of his apartment,

“Jesus christ Matt I know, why an earth can’t she?” She now picked up the needle she had placed down, clearly already done with their current conversation and adamant to return to her initial task. His voice was now so distant, so removed from himself as his thoughts were riddled with images of an incredibly troubled Karen, all because of him,

“She’s already been through enough, I can’t put this on her... not now.” He could sense the hostility and irritability that emanated from Claire readily, but her rigid posture indicated that she adamantly wanted to keep a hold of her composure. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, to be honest he didn’t think she wanted to talk about it at all. With that she answered him with a conclusive,

“Okay.” She then returned to the tending of his wounds, her touch lacking the usual tenderness and care she had provided before. Her movements indicated that she wanted to help him, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to make it pleasant. Feeling the needle pierce through his skin, he allowed his mind to wander, trying to escape the shame he felt over how his absence had affected Karen. She meant a lot to him, and he had promised he would stop anyone from hurting her. But how could he possibly hold that promise, if he was the one who was hurting her?

   Later that evening when Claire had gone to bed, leaving Matt on the sofa, he managed to heave his bruised and broken body from its resting place in order to seek out his phone. Once he found it he slumped back down on the sofa, inducing a burst of pain to flow through his limbs, invading and permeating every cell within his body. Placing the phone to his ear he rang his voicemail,

“You have five new messages, to listen to your messages press 1...” Pressing one he listened intently,

“First message received yesterday at 10:48pm...” It was then his ears were met with her voice, her soft symphonic tone corrupted by the trembling flaws of distress,

“.... Hi Matt it’s Karen... please call me as soon as you get this message, I’m sure you’ve heard what’s going on out there... I’m worried Matt, where are you?  Anyway please call me... It’s Karen... yeah... please be okay.” He couldn’t listen to the rest; he wouldn’t because he knew it would just make him feel worse than he already did. He was hurting her, he was hurting her and he didn’t even know he was doing it. Was this what was going to happen now? Was he going to become someone who put his self-proclaimed duty over the sanctity of his friendships? Of the people he loved and cared for? Perhaps he only had one choice, the one he had so avoided, had talked himself out of so many times. The one lesson Stick had told him so long ago, and the one he had chosen to ignore,

**“Friends are burdens, no friends, no burden.”**

 


End file.
